Picking Up The Pieces
by Firebloom
Summary: Set during Firestorm... After Larxene's first brutal fight with the Santor Queen Bellacruxia, Meytha reveals to Demyx about what she felt during that time, and together they dive into her inner conflicts, bringing out a new resolution for them. Demyx/OC


**A/N: I do believe that I said I'd work on a one-shot dedicated to Meytha and Demyx, at the end of "Firestorm". This little piece here takes places during "Firestorm", after Bellacruxia and Larxene's first encounter. Basically, it's between the chapters 'She Isn't Queen For Nothing' and 'She Gives You Nightmares'.**

* * *

Demyx plucked the strings to his sitar, humming a tune to himself. His aqua-green gaze moved to focus on the City that was his home; no stars, no moon, no animals. One would think that it was awful and barren. But it had its ups; this place gave Demyx inspiration for his music. The musician plucked the strings to his sitar, allowing the tune to carry on into the air until he picked up a smooth rhythm. Yet, he could not play... Demyx sighed as his mind replayed what he had seen not too long ago.

Bellacruxia had finally found her son, and the wolf Queen had engaged in raw, brutal combat against Strafe's surrogate mother, Larxene. The Nocturne was amazed, appalled, and even enthralled at Larxene's determination to protect this child who was not her own. Now, the Savage Nymph was in Zexion's Infirmary for the night, and Strafe was with Axel.

There was a knock on the door, and Demyx called softly, "Come in."

The door indeed opened, and Demyx could tell by the dark green eyes glittering brightly through the shadow cast by the pulled-up hood that this was his dear friend Meytha. She pulled down her hood now, to reveal black hair with an obvious tinge of purple. "Hey, Mey-Mey," Demyx greeted quietly.

The girl said nothing, only nodded. She walked up and sat next to him on his comfortable bed; only then did she say something. "Demyx?" she asked, uncharacteristic nervousness in her tone.

"Yeah?" he said, a light-brown eyebrow raised.

"You know, about this Bellacruxia person..." Meytha pulled her knees close to her body, hugging herself tightly. Demyx ached to hold her and make her feel safe, but she continued on with what she was saying. "She... frightens me."

"I think Strafe can agree with you on that," Demyx said, hoping to raise the girl's spirits somewhat. "And besides, Bellacruxia isn't your average run-of-the-mill mom bent on getting her kid back."

Meytha sighed sadly. "But Demyx," she said, looking upward, "I already know that Bellacruxia is capable of killing every one of us. And that frightens me. She could kill Axel, or Larxene, or even... you." Meytha looked intently at Demyx for the first time, her eyes wielding brittle worry stretched taut with anguish. "But what I found is that I became frightened, down there at the alley, at the fact that she could kill me so easily. I wanted to run, to escape, to get out of her reach." Her green eyes blazed with loathing for her own cowardice. Her voice tightened as she pounded the night stand beside her. "I felt like such a _god-damned coward_!" she hissed, full of bitterness.

"Meytha," Demyx whispered quickly, holding her arm. "Meytha, calm down. It's natural that you would feel this way at least once in your life. No one is born great and fearless. In fact, to be fearless is ignorance itself."

"But Demyx!" Meytha wailed. "I felt so useless out there! Like if it came to where Bellacruxia was going to attack us after... dealing with Larxene, I'd either abandon you all and run, or just get myself killed!"

"Meytha," Demyx crooned, stroking the young girl's hair, "you were just experiencing the natural instinct of fight or flee. You wouldn't have stood a chance against Bellacruxia, Meytha; you're too young and you weren't armed. And it wouldn't have come down to that, anyway. We were all sure and steadfast in our faith to Larxene; we knew and believed that she would triumph."

"But does that mean I didn't have faith, either?!" Meytha whispered bitterly to herself. "I didn't have courage, nor faith!"

"You didn't have faith in _yourself_, Mey-Mey," Demyx soothed solemnly, cupping her cheek and stroking her face with his thumb. "You're so shattered, Meytha," he said softly. "You're in fragments, and every time you try to touch a piece, you bleed."

"Why, Demyx?" Meytha said, a tear slipping out to slide down her cheek. "Why? I try so hard..."

"Because you're still not sure of yourself," Demyx replied. "Not sure how to pull yourself together without the risk of breaking again. Life was hard on you, wasn't it?"

Meytha nodded slowly, another tear coming down. She broke into a choked sob as she threw herself into Demyx's embrace, holding him tightly. "I just want... to be... strong and have courage... To be someone who won't run from the fight when it comes..."

"Believe it or not," Demyx said ruefully, rubbing her back, "I was the coward of the Organization." When Meytha looked up at him through startled eyes of disbelief, Demyx said, "I would always prefer to flee rather than fight, and I never wanted to be in the risk of danger. But I realized that living the life of a coward was no life at all, and I sought to see things in a different light." He chuckled at the play on the word 'light'. "But know this, Meytha," he said, holding her cheek with one hand, the other resting on her hand, "we are who we are; that is the meaning of individuality. No matter what happens, it's because you're you."

That's the Meytha I know and love."

Meytha looked into his sea-green eyes, and her own dark green eyes widened when Demyx planted a tender kiss on her cheek.

"Meytha," the musician whispered quietly, "will you let me help you pick up those pieces?"

Meytha put her arms around his neck and nuzzled his neck affectionately, whispering, "Of course."

Outside, the dead world lay still, undisturbed for now, and the two companions stared out into its depths, hand in hand.


End file.
